


Customer Satisfaction

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Hogwarts Era, Romance, Second War with Voldemort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-15
Updated: 2008-08-15
Packaged: 2018-10-26 12:35:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10786863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: The Hogsmeade jeweler keeps a promise he made to the Hogwarts headmaster...





	Customer Satisfaction

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
> **Author's notes:**
> 
> Part Six of the "Lapis & Emerald" series.
> 
> All stories in this series can be found in the proper order under "L" in the "series" link
> 
> Beta: weetziecat

**Customer Satisfaction**

Not sure he was doing the right thing, but with no idea of what else to do, Ron pushed open the door, begging the stars that the place would be empty, and thanking them when he only saw the shop’s owner inside.

“Ronald Weasley! What a pleasure it is to see you again! Please, come in, come in, don’t linger on the doorstep. Don’t tell me you’ve come to buy another… Oh, my _dear boy_! What’s happened?”

Ron wasn’t surprised that his face betrayed his emotional state, though he was sure it would have been difficult to hide it from the always perceptive Peridot Sardonyx at any rate. During his first visit to the jewelry shop, he’d had the impression Peridot could read his mind. Considering the way he felt now, it wouldn’t take a Legilimens to pick up on his mood.

“I made a mistake, Mr. Sardonyx,” Ron said, doing his best to keep his eyes dry and his voice from cracking. “ _We_ made a mistake.”

“What sort of mistake?” Peridot asked, his voice made a plea by his concern and desire to understand. “And please, Ron, do call me Peridot.”

“Well… _Peridot_ ,” Ron said, unable to keep from sniffing a bit. “The rings. We should’ve never…” And with that, all pretense of keeping his feelings in check fell away. Tears that would not be denied began to fall from his eyes. For the first time in as long as he could remember, Ron cried like a child whose favorite toy had been taken away, though what he was losing now was infinitely more precious.

“I see,” Peridot said softly, and even in the midst of his grief, Ron could tell that the kindly jeweler had managed to piece together enough of the story from Ron’s incomplete sentences. “That must be very painful for you; for _both_ of you. How is Harry bearing up?”

“Better than me,” Ron said sullenly, feeling resentful that Harry hadn’t been reduced to a blubbering mess like he had. “He’s acting like there’s nothing wrong.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t feel that way,” Peridot said consolingly. “It’s likely he’s in pain as well, but putting on a brave face. He is rather guarded, after all, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Ron nodded and wiped his sleeve across his face. Why didn’t he ever think to carry a damned handkerchief? “Wish I could be that way.”

“Be careful, Ron,” Peridot warned. “I’d be surprised if Harry hasn’t learnt to hide his emotions from some very painful lessons. Be grateful that you can still cry.”

“Grateful?” Ron looked up, confused. “I should be grateful for being all weepy?”

“Oh yes,” Peridot nodded, nothing but seriousness in his face. “And pray that the day never comes when you run out of tears. Believe me, there are few things more painful than needing to cry, but being unable to do so.”

Though he didn’t fully understand what Peridot had meant, Ron could see past the words enough to know that he was speaking of himself, and he suspected there were some horrifically painful aspects of Peridot’s past that Ron was forcing him to recall.

“I’m sorry,” he said, hanging his head again. “I don’t even know why I’m bothering you with this.”

“Don’t be sorry, and far from being bothered, I am _honoured_ that you felt you could confide in me,” Peridot insisted. “I only wish I could do more.”

“Well,” Ron looked up and saw a true desire to help in Peridot’s deep, brown eyes. He’d seen it before, during his first visit to this shop, when the jeweler had all but ignored Ron’s eight Galleon deficit, allowing him to obtain the perfect gift. Well, at least at the time it had _seemed_ the perfect gift. Raising his hands, he looked down for a moment at the emerald ring on his right middle finger before pulling it off and showing it to Peridot. “I know it’s engraved and all that,” he said, unable to keep his voice from breaking now, “but can I still bring this back?”

For what felt like an eternity, Peridot simply stared at the ring Ron was holding between his thumb and forefinger. Lacking the jeweler’s insight, Ron had no innate sense of what the man was thinking, nor could he read anything but shock in his expression. He thought that, perhaps, Peridot might point out to him that he hadn’t actually purchased the item in question, that it was bought by another, and only _he_ could return it.

“No, Ron,” Peridot said finally, as though confirming Ron’s thoughts. “No, I will not buy that ring back from you.”

“You don’t have to _buy_ it!” Ron said, demanding as much as pleading. “Just… just _take_ it! I don’t want it anymore!”

“No, Ron,” Peridot said again in an infuriatingly calm tone. “I think it’d be best if I didn’t.”

“If you don’t,” Ron warned, “I’ll… I’ll throw it into the lake! The fucking Squid can have it!” There was just enough of his mother in him for Ron to realize he’d gone too far in speaking to an adult in this way. Still, Peridot’s face remained inscrutable, giving no indication that he’d even noticed the vulgar language.

“It’s not for me to tell you what to do with your property,” Peridot said somewhat sadly. “I would, however, beg you to reconsider. Things might not be as dire as they appear right now. Perhaps you should talk to Harry again.”

“Wouldn’t do any good,” Ron huffed, deflating a bit after his burst of anger. He knew he owed the jewelry maker an apology, but Peridot didn’t seem to want or need one. “I know what he’d say. ‘Just keep the ring, mate. Everything will be fine.’ Well it _won’t_ be fine, and I can’t even stand looking at this thing anymore!”

Before Peridot could respond, Ron heard a bell chime merrily and a voice speak with a mixture of exasperation and relief.

“I thought I might find you here.” Ron turned to see Harry standing in the doorway.

“What are _you_ doing here?” he asked a bit accusingly.

“Whaddaya think?” Harry smirked grimly. “I’m looking for you!” He glanced past Ron and said, “Hullo, Peridot.”

“Harry Potter,” Peridot replied. “Though I’m always happy to see you, I wish this time it could be under better circumstances.”

Harry pushed the door shut and jerked his head towards Ron. “He’s told you, then?”

“I’m not yet privy to any of the details,” Peridot explained, “but I think I have a reasonable grasp of the situation.”

“Good,” Harry said tersely, “because I want to be here to tell _my_ side of it.”

“I’m still in the room, y’know,” Ron said gruffly, feeling as if he was being talked about instead of spoken to. “And I think I’m capable of telling both sides, thank you.”

“You always think that,” Harry countered. “But somehow I always come out looking like an insensitive prick. Oh, sorry, Peridot.”

“Not a bit of it,” Peridot replied. “Would you two like to be alone?”

“No!” Ron said suddenly, turning back to fix Peridot with a look. “We’ve _been_ alone, and we can’t agree on anything. I want you to hear this and tell us who you think is right!”

Peridot held up his hands, palms outward. “Now just relax, Ronald. I’m not sure I’m in any position to…”

“Yes, you are.” This time it was Harry who spoke. “I think you might be the perfect person to tell Ron what a prat he’s being. Maybe he’ll listen to you. He sure as hell won’t listen to me!”

“Tell you what,” Ron said sharply, matching Harry’s frustrated tone. “You start talking sense, and I’ll listen to you all day!”

“Really? Well, that’d be a pleasant change of pa—”

“Gentlemen, please!” Peridot said in the loudest voice Ron had ever heard from the gentle jeweler. “Clearly, I understand less about the situation than I thought. Maybe one of you could enlighten me. Then, perhaps, I’d be in a position to help.” He shook his head doubtfully. “Though I fear I may be out of my depth. We’ll never know, however, unless you’re willing to confide in me a bit more.”

“Yeah, all right,” Ron nodded as Harry walked across the shop to stand beside him. Casting a look at him, he asked, “Is it all right if I start?” When Harry replied with a brusque nod, Ron snarked, “You’ll correct me if I make any mistakes, right?”

“Count on it,” Harry snarked right back.

“Hold on one moment,” Peridot said as if he’d just remembered something. Drawing his wand, he pointed it at the front door. Ron heard a lock click, saw the “closed” sign spin to face the outside and a long blind lower itself, blocking the view of the Hogsmeade High Street. “Now we won’t be interrupted. All right, Ron. Why don’t you tell me everything?”

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Ron recalled the events of that morning in vivid detail. Determined to give an accurate account, to prove his take on things was the correct one, he began to speak, as if narrating the events of someone else’s life…

**~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Excruciatingly bright, clear sunshine streamed in through the window of the Gryffindor sixth year boys’ dormitory. Ron lay for a moment, just relishing the site. He knew the morning air would be cool and refreshing, more invigorating than the strongest tea. If he’d been alone in his attic bedroom at the Burrow, he’d welcome a day like this by stripping off, throwing open his small window, and letting the cool air envelope his naked body.

However, he was in a room with four other boys, three of whom, namely Neville Dean and Seamus, would be unlikely to appreciate such an exuberant worship of nature in all its glory. In circumstances where five male teenagers shared such close quarters, there was an unwritten, unspoken law that said only the most necessary nudity was permitted, as there was already enough homoerotic tension built into the situation. Ron smiled to think that, the first time they had all shared a communal shower, most of them would have worn their pants throughout if they could have reasonably done so.

Ron got out of bed and walked to the large double windows. By way of a compromise between nudity and propriety, he eschewed his dressing gown and stood in his pyjamas, staring down at the brilliantly green grass seven stories below. He unlatched the windows and threw them open.

A blast of cool, invigorating air rushed in as if into a vacuum. Ron closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose, almost quivering from the powerful scents of a perfect morning. He felt as if the entire world was waking up with him, as spring chased away all vestiges of a long, cold winter.

“Oi! What the hell is wrong with you, Weasley!”

Smiling broadly, Ron turned around and said, “Morning, Seamus.”

“Morning, my arse!” Seamus scowled back. “Shut the feckin’ window, ya freak! It’s like the feckin’ Antarctic in here!”

“A little fresh air never hurt anyone,” Ron replied, still smiling pleasantly. “Godric knows we could use some, the way you fart up a room.”

By now, their conversation had awoken their roommates, and each added his own opinion of what Ron could do with his fresh air. Neville begged him to close the window. Dean grumbled something about how Ron should have gone to Durmstrang if he liked the cold so much. Harry complained about the pneumonia he was sure they’d all suffer as he drew his blanket over his head.

“I’m gonna go try and take a piss,” Seamus announced angrily, quickly pulling on his dressing gown. “If I can still find my feckin’ cock, that is!”

“Let us know if you need any help,” Ron chuckled. “Just remember, it’s always in the last place you look.”

Eventually, Ron bowed to the majority and closed the windows. The temperature seemed to shoot up almost instantly from the sun streaming in, leaving the heat nowhere else to go. He watched the other inhabitants of the room go through their morning rituals. To Ron, stimulated as he was by the clear, brisk morning, they almost seemed to be moving in slow motion, whereas he was the first to be fully dressed. He sat on the edge of his bed waiting for Harry, so that they could walk down to breakfast together.

Ron’s mood was buoyed all the more by the fact that it was Saturday. For him, each weekend was like a little holiday, free from the cares of classes and lessons. No doubt Hermione Granger would be of a different opinion, and would spend that day and the next insisting that Ron and Harry spend the time revising. Ron would have none of it, however, and during breakfast he planned to talk Harry into a few hours on the Quidditch pitch, presuming no one had booked it for a practice.

After what seemed like forever, Harry was finally dressed and he and Ron made their way to the Great Hall. Even from two floors above, the smell of delicious sausages, bacon, eggs, toast, and everything else Ron loved for breakfast, filled the air. His stomach growled and his mouth watered in anticipation. He babbled on a bit about what a perfect day it was, while Harry walked silently beside him, never much for conversation before he’d had a cup of tea. Ron was sure that, by the time they’d finished breakfast, Harry would be as ready to fly as he was himself. Feeling happy and content, Ron held the door open for Harry to pass through, while voices and the sounds of clattering flatware flooding out from the Great Hall.

In the space of an instant, Ron knew something had gone horribly wrong. From the way nearly all sound subsided when they entered the Great Hall, he knew it had something to do with either him or Harry, or possibly even both of them. Nearly every head turned in their direction, and Ron could see some people tapping others on their shoulders, or nudging them with elbows, until those who had missed their entrance also stared, watching them as they made their way towards the Gryffindor table.

Ron’s stomach, which had only seconds earlier been noisily begging for sustenance, now began churning with anxiety. The feeling only increased as he saw Hermione Granger also watching them, a searching, worried look on her face. Without turning his head, Ron could feel how stiffly Harry was walking beside him, obviously affected by the unexpected attention.

Finally, they reached an empty piece of bench across the table from Hermione and sat down. Almost immediately, silence was replaced by whispered voices, which gradually grew to a more normal volume. Still, Ron didn’t feel any more relaxed.

“Hermione,” he half whispered across the table, “what did we do now?”

Hermione said nothing for a long moment, but continued to scan Ron’s face with the same probing gaze. Finally, she said, “Ron, Harry, I don’t know how to tell you this, but people have been…”

“Yeah, I know.” Ron jumped a bit when Harry spoke, and turned to stare at him.

“You know _what_?” he demanded.

“I didn’t want to say anything, Ron,” Harry said apologetically, only increasing the weight of the lump of lead now resting in Ron’s stomach. “I thought maybe it was just a few people.”

“It probably was,” Hermione nodded. “But you know what this place is like, Harry. If two people know it at dinner, _everybody_ knows it by breakfast!”

“Knows _what_?” Ron begged. He was struggling to keep his voice as low as Harry’s and Hermione’s, but frustration was launching an assault on his self control.

“I’ll tell you after breakfast, Ron,” Harry sighed.

“You’ll tell me right now!” Ron ordered. “Hell, it looks like I’m the only one in the whole bloody castle who _doesn’t_ know!”

“Ron,” Hermione said in a voice that made Ron think of a Healer telling someone he only had a week to live. “It’s… your _rings_.”

Ron stared at Hermione, waiting for her to explain why she’d changed the subject. She, on the other hand, looked back as if she’d fully answered his question, and was just waiting for comprehension to take root.

“They aren’t stolen,” Ron said, fishing for meaning in an ocean of obscurity. “We both paid for them!”

“Nobody thinks they’re stolen, Ron,” Harry corrected him. “They think…” He stopped and took a deep breath. “They’re saying that we… that you and I…”

“Are more than friends,” Hermione said slowly and carefully, while Harry turned towards her looking grateful, but none too comfortable.

The process was gradual, but slowly Ron began to understand the full meaning of what Harry and Hermione were trying to explain. Someone had finally begun to discuss the possible meanings of the lapis lazuli and emerald rings he and Harry had both begun wearing on Valentine’s Day.

Had it been someone else, Ron might have quipped about how the keepers of the Hogwarts grapevine had fallen asleep at the switch. He’d been expecting rumours on the very first day, and now he wished it had happened then. After their first declaration of love, he felt that he and Harry could have handled any comments, questions or ridicule. The same might have been true the day they’d had their rings engraved with promises of undying love. Since then, however, Ron had allowed himself to relax, to let his guard down, and so this latest turn of events had caught him unaware.

Hermione was right, of course. It was quite likely that everybody else had at least heard the rumour, though whether they believed it or not still remained to be seen. He glanced down towards the end of the Gryffindor table and caught sight of his sister Ginny, who seemed to be in the midst of a heated discussion with Dean Thomas. Whatever it was about, Ginny was clearly angry. Her cheeks were flushed and she waved her hands about as she talked, scowling at almost everything Dean said.

Elsewhere along the table, similar discussions seemed to be taking place, though none so emotional as the one between Ginny and Dean. Occasionally, the participants would look down the table towards Ron and Harry, making it clear about whom they were speaking. Deciding he wasn’t strong enough to take it, Ron resisted the temptation to look over his shoulder at the Slytherin table, where he was sure a different dynamic was at work. Surely, there’d be no question in any of _their_ minds that every rumour was true, and Pansy Parkinson had probably already announced that she’d caught Harry and Ron shagging in Astronomy Tower. It hardly mattered that it hadn’t happened there, or _anywhere_ , yet. People would gleefully devour a rumour like that the way Ron devoured chocolate gateau.

Through it all, Ron had one persistent thought running through his head: this was the last thing Harry needed. Not that Ron relished the idea of facing the rest of the school and, even worse, his family, but he couldn’t bear to think that a simple pair of rings would add to the burden that Harry Potter carried with him nearly every waking moment.

Never before had he felt less worthy of Harry’s attention, much less his love. He simply was not worth the type of torment Harry was bound to undergo, especially once word of their relationship exploded from the confines of Hogwarts and into the wider wizarding world. If Ron had taken up with Seamus Finnigan, it was likely that no one besides their fellow students and his own family would have given a flobberworm’s fart about it. But this was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the bloody Chosen One! From somewhere in the back of his head came a disturbing vision of Rita Skeeter having a spontaneous orgasm upon hearing the news.

“Harry, we have to—”

“Ron, _don’t_ ,” Harry cut him off. “I know what you’re going to say, and we’ll talk about it _after breakfast_.” Ron felt a bit hurt that Harry hadn’t let him finish his sentence, but understood his reasons a bit better when he turned to Hermione and said, “Nothing personal, Hermione.”

“I understand,” Hermione nodded. “But you both know, right, that if you ever want to talk about… well, about _anything_ …”

“Yeah, I think we both know that. Thanks,” Harry said, giving her a strained but meaningful smile. Ron, feeling unable to smile at the moment, simply nodded his affirmative.

“So, you knew this _when_?”

Twenty minutes later, Harry and Ron, having abandoned any attempt to swallow food, were walking towards the lake to have a private conversation away from whispering lips and prying eyes. The spectacular weather, which Ron had been relishing since his first moment of wakefulness, was wasted on him now.

“Not until last night, really,” Harry replied. “I was coming back from the Room of Requirement… well, from trying to get _into_ the Room of Requirement.” Ron knew what Harry meant, as he’d become obsessed with figuring out what Draco Malfoy had been up to since the beginning of the year. “I crossed paths with Zabini and a few other Slytherins. He said something about not seeing my boyfriend. Of course, I asked him what he meant and he just pointed at my ring and said, ‘Have you boys set a date yet?’ The way the other people around him snickered, I figured someone had been spreading stories, so…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ron asked, feeling more than a little betrayed.

“Because I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t want to worry you until I found out. It was pretty obvious when we walked into breakfast this morning, though.”

“You think so?” Ron said sarcastically, though any anger he might have otherwise felt was tempered by the fact that he’d have probably handled things in much the same way.

“This is going to be really hard on you, Ron,” Harry said, his voice heavy with what Ron perceived as guilt. “I’m so sorry.”

“Me?” Ron stopped and waited until Harry stood still as well. “Who the hell cares what _I_ do?”

“Oh, I don’t know, lemme think,” Harry laughed without humour. “Uh, your mum, your dad, Ginny, your brothers, the _twins_.” He said the last with great emphasis. “Can you imagine what the twins would say if they found out, or rather, what they _will_ say _when_ they find out?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Ron snorted. “They’re my family! They all love you and they’re not going to give us a hard time! Well, we’d both better stay clear of Ginny for a while, but everyone else will be fine. It’s _you_ I’m worried about.”

“Me?” Harry said, sounding a bit dumbfounded. “Ron, I don’t have any family. Well, no one who’d give a damn, anyway. I’ve got no one to hurt or disappoint.”

“Ah, I see,” Ron nodded, affecting a pensive tone. “Then you’re not counting the entire wizarding population of Britain?”

“What’s that got to do …”

“It’s got _everything_ to do with it, Harry!” Ron actually took Harry by the shoulders, afraid that his point might be missed if he didn’t hold Harry gaze. “Do you honestly think that news like this is going to stay locked up at Hogwarts? Owls fly in and out of this place all the time, Harry! I give it a day and a half before Rita Skeeter comes after you like a fly after shit!”

“Nice,” Harry said with raised eyebrows and a sarcastic tone. “Thanks, Ron,”

“Oh, you know what I mean,” Ron huffed. “No one’s going to care that you’re with _me_ , only that you’re with a bloke!”

“That’s not true,” Harry shook his head.

“Like hell it’s not,” Ron argued. “Hell, Harry, I could walk down Diagon Alley naked if you were next to me, and all anyone would see would be you!”

“So, you’re saying it doesn’t matter?” Harry asked quietly. “You don’t care what people might say about you?”

“What matters to me,” Ron corrected him, “is what they say about _you_!”

“Then we don’t really have a problem,” Harry shrugged. “If you don’t care what your family says, and I couldn’t give a rat’s arse for what ‘the entire wizarding population of Britain’ thinks, then we can stay together.”

“What?” Ron asked incredulously. “No! Haven’t you been listening? We have to stop! We have to break it off. We have to stop wearing these rings! Harry, you have to get as far away from me as you can! I’m not going to make your life harder than it already is!”

“Are you mad?!” Harry shouted, really shouted, now taking Ron by the shoulders as well. “Why would we do that?”

“Because you have enough to worry about!” Ron exclaimed. “You don’t need people advertising the fact that you’re… that you fancy blokes! You’re too famous! Everybody knows you!”

“I. DON’T. CARE!”

“WELL. I. _DO_!”

**~~~~~~~~~~~~**

“And that’s when he took off.”

“I thought _I_ was telling this story,” Ron grumbled.

“You said I should correct you if you got it wrong,” Harry growled right back.

“I didn’t get it wrong.”

“Well, you didn’t tell the whole thing.”

“Well, you didn’t give me a chance to fin—”

“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” Peridot interrupted. “It’s all right. I’ll admit I had the wrong idea at first, but I think I have a pretty clear picture now.”

“Sorry,” Ron said, hanging his head, but feeling more disgruntled than contrite.

“That’s quite all right,” Peridot said. “I’m not surprised you’re both feeling a bit hot under the collar. You do realize, though, that you’re not angry with one another, right?”

Ron turned his head the slightest bit, straining his eyes to see Harry doing the exact same thing.

Harry spoke first. “No, I guess we’re not.” Then he added to Ron, “We’re _not_ , right?”

“I never was,” Ron said, turning his face fully to Harry. “But you wouldn’t listen to reason, Harry. I can’t let you do this to yourself. Not for _me_.”

“Ron, you’re the only one I _would_ do it for,” Harry fixed Ron with a plaintive gaze. “Besides, who says I’m doing it just for _you_. It’s for me, too, Ron! I love you. I _need_ you. You say I’m famous and all that rubbish, but I don’t care about any of that!”

“But they’ll make your life hell, Harry,” Ron tried to reason again.

“Gee, I wonder what _that_ would be like,” Harry chortled sardonically. “Can’t you get it through that red mop of yours that _I don’t care_! The _Prophet_ can print my picture on the front page with a huge headline, THE CHOSEN ONE’S A FAIRY, and all I’d care about was whether or not they’d spelt your name right in the article!”

Five minutes earlier, Ron would not have thought it possible, but suddenly he felt his diaphragm spasm with what would be a guffaw if he allowed it to escape. How it was possible, he’d never know, but what Harry had just said had released something inside him, something deep in his heart. It didn’t matter what he thought. All that mattered was that _Harry_ thought he was worth the rumours, scathing articles and ridicule he would have to endure. In his mind, he could even picture Harry complaining that the _Daily Prophet_ had left the second “e” out of “Weasley”.

“If I may be so bold,” Peridot said cautiously, “I’m not sure it was Harry who wasn’t listening to reason, Ron.”

“Yeah,” Ron nodded, still staring into Harry’s flashing green eyes. “Maybe you’re right.” Only then did Ron remember that, in his tightly clenched fist, he was still holding the emerald ring he’d tried to return to Peridot. Holding his hand open, he looked at the ring for several seconds, and then looked up at Harry. “I’m sorry, Harry.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Harry smiled. “You were just worried about me. I’m supposed to be angry about that? Then I reckon I’m daft, because I just love you more than ever.” He reached over and took the ring from Ron’s hand. “I’m done seeking my Keeper, Ron, because I’d never find a better one, and because I’m not a total idiot.” He reached out with the ring held in his fingertips. Almost instinctively, Ron held up his right hand, and Harry slid the ring back onto his middle finger.

Turning his head a bit, but keeping his eyes locked onto Harry’s, Ron said, “Peridot, could you give us a moment?”

“As you wish,” Peridot replied. Though he couldn’t see his face, Ron was sure he could hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll just be back in the workshop. Call out if you need me, or if you’d like me to unlock the door.” He listened to the jeweler’s retreating footsteps, the soft rustle of a curtain, a few more footsteps and then silence.

Without another thought, Ron stepped forward and took Harry into his arms. “D’ya mind snogging a stupid git?”

“Hasn’t bothered me for two months,” Harry grinned. “Why should today be any different?”

“Close enough,” Ron grinned back, leaning in and pressing his lips to Harry’s.

Outside the door of Peridot’s Fine Jewelry was a world full small-minded people, who would certainly have their say in the weeks to come. More to the point, there were still nearly two months of term left, and now that the story had spread throughout the castle, Ron and Harry had no chance of hiding the truth of their relationship. Once the news had spread, Ron’s parents would require explanations, Ginny would somehow need to be appeased, the twins would take their shots, Charlie and Bill would at least deserve an owl each, and, once he’d heard, Percy would be his normal, disapproving self, though Ron didn’t let that final thought bother him much.

It might all have been more than Ron could bear, except for the fact that, if he did, it would mean more moments like this, with Harry’s hands sliding up and down his back, his lithe body pressed against Ron’s own, and his pink, slightly chapped lips opening to make room for Ron’s tongue. In the overall scheme of things, Ron reckoned the positives outweighed the negatives by a fair margin, ignored the rest of the world and, for the time being, focused on the universe inhabited only by him and the raven-haired wonder in his arms.

After a long time, they broke their kiss and Harry laid his head against Ron’s chest, while Ron rested his cheek on top of Harry’s tousled head.

“Gods, Ron,” Harry breathed huskily into Ron’s chest, “I love you. Don’t you _ever_ threaten to leave me again. Got that?”

“Got it,” Ron whispered into Harry’s hair. “I was doing it for you, though. You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded slightly, “but from now on, you let _me_ decide what’s best for me, okay?”

“And who decides what’s best for me?” Ron asked playfully.

“Well, considering your most recent decisions, I’d say you’d best leave that to me as well.” Ron could feel, as much as hear, Harry’s breathy laughter.

“Won’t work,” Ron said, causing Harry to push away a bit and look up into his face.

“Why not?”

“Well, I’ve never told you this,” Ron said, affecting the most serious voice he could manage, “but I really despise treacle tart. It’s so sweet and sticky; sort of revolting, really.”

“I see,” Harry nodded thoughtfully. “All right then, you can make all the pudding decisions. Just do me a favour and try not to pick chocolate gateau every single night.”

“Done and done,” Ron smiled. Leaning in once more, he planted another small kiss on Harry’s forehead and said, “We’d better let Peridot have his shop back, don’t you think?”

“Aaaah, I suppose you’re right,” Harry replied resignedly. “I’d hate to think he’d lose business because I can’t keep my hands off you.”

“That would be inexcusable,” Ron agreed, “but understandable.”

“No court in the land would convict me,” Harry agreed, but then said, “But we wouldn’t want to inconvenience Mr. Sardonyx any longer.”

Pulling away from one another, they both smoothed out their robes before Ron called out, “Peridot, I think we’re finished here.”

“Very good,” Peridot called back, his voice distant enough for Ron to feel sure that he’d not been eavesdropping. Oddly, Ron wouldn’t really have been fussed if they’d been overheard. Chances were most of the wizarding world would know soon enough that he and Harry were together, and that they didn’t much care what anyone else thought about it. “And was there anything else I could do for you today?” Peridot asked, stepping out through the curtained doorway.

“No, sorry,” Harry said sheepishly. “And we’re sorry if we chased away any of your business.”

“I’ll have none of that,” Peridot said admonishingly. “This has merely been customer service on a previous purchase. May I assume you still find your rings satisfactory?”

“Ron?” Harry asked. “What do you say, do you want to keep your ring?”

“Oh, I think so,” Ron replied, smirking at Harry and then smiling at Peridot. “I thought there might have been a problem, but it looks like I was wrong. Sorry if I wasted your time, Peridot.”

“Far from it,” Peridot smiled back. “I couldn’t imagine a better use of my time or my shop. And please remember that both are at your disposal if ever the need arises.”

“Thanks,” Ron said, feeling true affection for one of the most understanding men he’d ever met in his life. He wondered how Peridot had developed such intuition and compassion. There was something in the way he spoke that suggested to Ron that much of his wisdom was the result of painful experience. Ron hoped it had all occurred in the past, and that it hadn’t been too very painful. As far as he was concerned, Peridot deserved every bit of happiness he could find.

“I have a feeling,” Harry spoke over Ron’s musings, “that we’ll be taking you up on that. If nothing else, we might be looking for a place to hide… from time to time.”

“A shelter from the storm, eh?” Peridot smiled, but Ron also saw a grim acknowledgement of just how true Harry’s words might turn out to be. “A safe harbour, perhaps? Again, if I can provide that service, I promise you my hospitality and my best manners.” Ron saw his eyes widen a bit before he added, “And speaking of manners, where are mine? I completely forgot to ask if you’ve fully recovered from your Quidditch mishap, Harry. It looked quite painful.”

“Oh, you _saw_ that?” Harry groaned.

“Oh yes,” Peridot said casually. “Professor Dumbledore invited me after Ron had told him I’d like to see a match. I’m sorry you were under the weather that day, Ron. I would very much have liked to have seen you play Keeper, even if it was against my own former house.”

“Turned out to be a good day for Hufflepuff,” Harry groaned again.

“Not so good for Gryffindor, though,” Ron shook his head.

“No, I suppose not,” Peridot said sympathetically. “Still, maybe I’ll have another chance.”

“We’re playing against Ravenclaw next month,” Ron said quickly. “I hope you can make it!”

“My dear boy, I will do everything in my power to be there,” Peridot smiled warmly. “Providing the headmaster is kind enough to extend another invitation, of course.”

“We’ll ask him,” Harry said excitedly. “I’m sure he will.”

“Then I’ll watch for his owl,” Peridot said.

“Well, Harry,” Ron said with a sigh. “I guess it’s time to go face the music.” He couldn’t help wishing that they could just spend the day there at Peridot’s Fine Jewelry, certain that it was one of the few places they could be sure to find such generous acceptance. Perhaps their fellow Gryffindors would show some willingness to allow them their happiness, but he doubted the rest of the school would be so tolerant.

“Just remember,” Peridot said, his face taking on a serious, but encouraging, expression, “you have one another. Much can be endured when you have the right person at your side. I know you must be afraid right now, but most of those who might deride you are those who have never experienced the depth of feeling you two share. Nor, I imagine, are they likely to be as strong as either of you, and wouldn’t stand a chance against you both! Never let anyone tell you that your love is wrong, not when you so clearly belong together. You have love and youth, and as I’ve recently been reminded, _that_ is a formidable combination.” He paused for a moment, while a smile tilted the left side of his mouth, and then added, “As are _you_.”

“Did anyone ever tell you,” Harry inquired, “that you sound a lot like Professor Dumbledore?”

Ron and Peridot looked at each other in surprise and suddenly burst into shared laughter.

“It has been remarked,” Peridot managed to gasp. “And I’m inclined to believe it, having now been so informed by two such clever young men.”

“You’re a bit slow, Harry,” Ron wheezed out in response to Harry’s confused expression. “I told him that the first time I met him.”

“Not to worry, Harry,” Peridot said soothingly when Harry looked embarrassed. “I’d be a fool to disdain such a wonderful compliment, whenever it was offered.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, glancing remonstratively at Ron. “It just occurred to me now.”

“No need to apologize,” Peridot shook his head. “It was unfair of us to laugh before telling you the joke. And again, thank you for saying so.”

Ron was even more amazed with Peridot now, and the ease with which he had lifted Harry’s spirits by merely speaking a few words. This curious jeweler had been there at the beginning, when both Ron and Harry had faced those first terrifying and exhilarating moments of truly being together. Through the rings they wore, he’d been with them throughout the days and weeks that had followed, as they became ever more comfortable with the idea. He was there now, when they both so desperately needed to be reassured that their love was not only acceptable, but perhaps even inevitable. And he had promised to be there whenever they needed such assurance again.

After thanking Peridot again, he and Harry stepped out of the shop, blinking in the bright afternoon sunlight. Ron turned to see Peridot give him a cheery wave, which, like the crisp, springtime air, gave Ron a renewed sense of confidence. No, the days to come would not be easy, but with Harry beside him, Ron agreed with Peridot that there was little anyone could do to take away their happiness.

Feeling the moment shouldn’t pass without comment, Ron said, “Have I told you lately what a brilliant Seeker you are?”

“Not recently,” Harry replied. Ron turned just enough to see the smirk on Harry’s face, and just a hint of blush in his cheek. “Go on, then.”

“I ran away and you came seeking. You knew just where to find me,” Ron explained. “I just think that’s brilliant.”

“Well,” Harry said, his voice thoughtful. “I think you need just a bit more practice as a Keeper. You sort of fumbled the Quaffle a bit today, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” Ron agreed, feeling it an appropriate penance for even considering letting go of the best thing that had ever happened to him. “We learn from our mistakes, though, right?”

“Right,” Harry said. “I just hope you’re quicker at learning this lesson than you are at Transfigurations… or Potions… or History of Ma—“”

“Oh, nice,” Ron cut him off. “I give you a compliment, and you tell me what a stupid git I am.”

“You’re right,” Harry said apologetically. “I’m sorry. You’re a brilliant Keeper, Ron. Hell, you’re just plain bloody brilliant all around!”

“That’s better,” Ron smiled, wishing more than anything that they weren’t in the middle of Hogsmeade, where he couldn’t very well take Harry into his arms. “So, how did you plan on sneaking back into the castle?”

“Honeydukes,” Harry answered, pulling a corner of his Invisibility Cloak out of a pocket and showing it to Ron. “Think we can both still fit?”

“I dunno,” Ron said with a false note of doubt. “We’ll have to get _really_ close.”

“The closer the better,” Harry smiled.

“Always,” Ron smiled back.


End file.
